Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king-Chapter 973: Anew(1)

It is the inescapable nature of things to shift; sometimes toward the light of progress, sometimes into the embrace of decay. Not all that is ancient is sacred, nor is every novelty a blessing. Human nature is caught in the friction between these two poles, struggling against the tide in one moment, and surrendering to the current the next. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Like a ship on a storm so human progress is to go.

No one is exempt from the slow, grinding ravel of time. If even the mountains eventually submit to the wind and the rain, how could a human creation be so arrogant as to claim itself an exception?

Most of the changes that had swept through Yarzat like a wildfire were sparked by its Prince. He was a man who knew no peace in the old ways and found no respite in the new. He possessed a restless mind: if a system failed, he cut it out; if it functioned, he either honed it to a razor’s edge or left it as it was.

This was simply one of those times where the old had to be broken to make room for the new. But as it is with all profound transformations, not everyone was ready to embrace the surgery.

"I don’t understand this," Jarza muttered, scratching the back of his head with a blunt, scarred hand. "I truly don’t, for the life of me. You would have the Legions endure an entire year without spending a single copper? To hoard every nickel only to dump it all at the year’s end? What is the tactical logic in starving the beast before you feed it a feast by year’s end?"

"What is it that truly bothers you, Jarza?" Alpheo questioned, his voice cool and steady. He knew the medicine he was prescribing was bitter, but he also knew that without it, the body politic would eventually wither. "Is it the fact that the reason eludes you, or is it the prospect of a year spent in meagerness?"

"You know I’d walk the Magna Strata barefoot if you asked it of me, and I’d double back while cursing you if you forgot your silk gloves on the road. Do not play games with me," Jarza snapped, staring impassively at his friend. He paused, his gaze softening into a look of troubled reflection. "I have seen you demand the mad and the impossible, only for it to be revealed later as a masterpiece of reason.

I trust the ’Fox’ more than I trust my own eyes." He snorted as he felt the heavy silence of the others in the room, their eyes boring into his back. "But while I am the only one with the gall to say it, the doubt in this room is thick enough to choke a horse.Have some gall cowards and speak your mind, instead of letting me do all the work."

A low murmur of agreement followed his outburst. Except for Rykio, who usually sat in the corner like a stone, and now offered nothing but a dismissive shrug when prodded. "A silverii today or a silverii tomorrow," Rykio muttered, "it matters little. I shall find myself with an empty purse two mornings after regardless."

The others, however, did not share such a nihilistic philosophy. Even Pontus, the Architect, who usually remained in his own lane during these military-minded councils, cleared his throat and stood.

"Your Grace, you assigned me a project of monumental importance, a work you described as the very spine of our future. I assure you, we have been proceeding with the steps of giants. But giants or men, no one marches forward if the path isn’t paved with coin. To starve the projects now is to let the mortar dry before the bricks are set."

Pontus looked toward Jarza, offering a rare nod of solidarity between the man of the trowel and the man of the sword. "As much as a man of peace can agree with a man of war, I believe this sudden austerity to be a dangerous gamble. Of course," he added with a thin, opportunistic smile, "if you were to provide me alone with the necessary finance, I would find my protestations vanished into the air."

Alpheo promptly ignored the last part mentioned by his minister of infrastructure and proceeded by relinquishing to Jarza’s demands for an explanation.

"Until now, our approach to the treasury has been little more than a beggar’s scramble," Alpheo began, his voice cutting through the skepticism like a cold wind. "An official matter arises, you bring it to this council, you play the part of the desperate advocate, and we peer into the coffers to see if we have the crumbs to satisfy you.

We live month-to-month, hand-to-mouth, bleeding our revenue as fast as the trade ships can bring it in. It is erratic, it is unproductive, and it leaves us vulnerable to the slightest tremor of fate."

He leaned forward, his hands flat on the mahogany table. "We are a Princedom, yet we budget like a tavern. Our income from the trade lanes is steady, and our communal taxes from the soil and the shops are predictable. There is no excuse for this chaos. Therefore, the paradigm shifts. For the remainder of this year, we tighten the fist. We keep every copper under lock and key, and at the year’s end, we shall perform a total accounting of our court’s blood.And assign it properly"

"And then?" Asag asked, his brow furrowed as he tried to map the logic of such a sudden freeze.

"And then," Alpheo continued, his eyes alight with a vision of order, "we shall divide the treasury with the precision of a surgeon. We will establish fixed budgets for every branch, infrastructure, the military, and the new departments I intend to birth within this council.

A significant portion will be sequestered into a sovereign reserve to meet the unexpected without shattering our daily operations. You will no longer need to prepare a lawyer’s case to beg for every nail or bag of grain. You will each have your own purse, your own allocated weight of silver, to use as you deem fit, be it for the glory of the realm or your own vanity. For the latter, of course, there will be consequences, so I hope you use them responsibly.

The key and its implication will be yours, and so will the consequence."

The council sat in a stunned, puzzled silence. Even after the explanation, the complexity of the shift seemed like a useless conjuncture. To them, the old way had worked well enough.

The Prince was the fountain, and they were the cups. Why build a complex system of aqueducts when the rain was still falling? Yet, they knew the man. They recognized this as another quirk of a mind that could never leave a functioning machine alone if he thought he could make it fly.

"If you believe it vital to our survival, Your Grace, we shall not play the part of the wall to your plan," Edric said, though his voice held a lingering worry. "I only ask for the sake of the men... I assume this ’meagerness’ does not extend to the soldiers’ pay for the duration of the year? A hungry dog is not one you want to kick while under the dining table.All that it takes is one moment for it to snap at your balls.And i very well loves my groins," He spoke before adding respectfully, "Your Grace.’’

Alpheo let out a sharp, dry bark of a laugh. The idea was so absurd it was almost offensive. "Perish the thought! Do I look as though my wits have finally fled my skull?"

He threw a mock-murderous gaze at Asag, who caught the look and immediately found something fascinating about the grain of the wooden table.

"More than usual, you mean?" Asag muttered under his breath when Alpheo thought he had saved a barb from him "I recall several instances where we questioned the structural integrity of your mind."

"Always sunshine and roses from you, " Alpheo grumbled, his throat suddenly feeling like a parched riverbed. He reached for his cup, found it empty, and resisted the urge to call for a servant. He had a point to finish.

"Regarding your fear, Edric: No, I am not mad enough to withhold the blood-price of my soldiers. All fundamental expenditures remain untouched. Salaries will be paid, grain will be bought, and armor will be mended." He turned a pointed look toward the engineer, whose restless movements were beginning to grate. "And that includes you, Pontus. I see you shifting in your seat as if you had a nest of ants in your breeches! Do not fret; you will receive your damn coin. The spine of this city will not be left half-formed."

Pontus bowed his head, showing no sign of apology. His eyes remained fixed on the Prince, unblinking. He didn’t care for the tone; he cared only for the confirmation.

He needed that coins after all.

Shahab, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout the financial lecture, finally let out a long, weary breath. "Is that all for today’s lesson in thrift, Your Grace? Or are we to be lectured on the proper way to count grains in the granaries?"

The council shifted, a few chuckles rippling through the room as the tension began to bleed away. But Alpheo didn’t join in the levity. Instead, he reached into a hidden leather folio at his side and withdrew a small, meticulously bound bundle of papers.

If they wanted know the proper way to count, here was the paper.

"Not quite, Shahab," Alpheo said, shaking his head slowly. "I believe I should at the very least give you a taste of the feast that follows the fast. I would hate for you to leave this room thinking I am merely a miser."

Jasmine, who had been watching her husband without putting her thoughts in the conversation. and had merely playing with the gold thread in her sleeves finally reached out. "What is this?" she asked, her voice soft, carrying a note of genuine curiosity.

She gently took the top sheet from the bundle. Her brow furrowed almost instantly as her eyes darted across the page.

She got a headache when she saw all the numbers.

Alpheo watched her for a moment, before he reached out and took the paper back from her fingers. He held it up for the entire council to see.

"This," Alpheo announced, his voice ringing with a terrifyingly clear sense of purpose, "is the budget for the coming year.I believe it’d be best to use today as a test to make you understand how this all works."